


I Ain't Dropping No Eaves!

by Cecilia1204



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Cannon Era, Eavesdropping, F/M, Fluff, Red Keep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 12:40:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecilia1204/pseuds/Cecilia1204
Summary: You know what they say about eavesdroppers and how they never hear good about themselves?  Sandor decides to eavesdrop on a girl's night in...Written for Maroucia's 'Sansan Russian Roulette'.





	I Ain't Dropping No Eaves!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fanfic_Addicted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_Addicted/gifts), [Maroucia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maroucia/gifts).



> This was written for Maroucia's Sansan Russian Roulette 2108. The prompt was by Sansanaddict
> 
> Prompt: Canon era set in the Red Keep. Sandor stumbles upon Sansa, Jeyne and Myrcella playing a game of 'wed, bed, behead'. Hearing his name in the mix, he can't help listening in...
> 
> In my head, I've aged the girls up and Sandor never left during the Battle of the Blackwater.

_“The Hound?  Really?”_

Sandor, ‘The Hound’ Clegane stopped so abruptly at the sound of his name the torch beside the door flickered. 

That the door belonged to Sansa Stark was merely a co-incidence.  Of course it was.  Guarding the corridors was part of his duties now that he’d been demoted from the Kingsguard.  Not that he gave a fuck.  Not having to stand behind that little shit, Joffrey, and watch his demonic displays was a bonus as far as Sandor was concerned.

It also meant that he didn’t have to attend Joffrey’s hunting expedition as the Kingsguard were required to do.  Hunting, he snorted to himself.  More like command his minions to make the kill and take credit for it.

Seeing as most of the Court had accompanied the King, the Red Keep was now lightly fortified, with only a minimum number of guards to maintain order.  That included him.

That he chose to guard the corridors near Sansa Stark’s quarters was only due to his sense of duty.  She had not been allowed to accompany the King and his new bride on the hunt, therefore she needed guarding against the scum of Kings Landing who would relish a tasty morsel like her.  Her shy smiles at him when they met in the grounds of the Keep told him she wasn’t exactly heartbroken to have been left behind.

Sandor knew that Sansa was entertaining her friend Jeyne tonight, as well as Myrcella, the King’s sister.  Luckily she was nothing like her brother, being as sweet as Joffrey was vile.  He’d seen the girls sitting around the gardens, giggling together, as if Joffrey’s absence lifted the miasma of dread that pervaded the Keep when he was in residence.

He was only going to walk past to ensure all was well but the giggling, as well as his name being mentioned, was too much to resist. 

In the back of his mind, a little voice told him that eavesdroppers never hear any good about themselves, but he shut it down quickly.   As softly as a man his size could, he placed his ear against the heavy wooden door.

“The Hound?”  That was Myrcella’s voice. 

“Yes,” replied Jeyne.  “It’s my turn of ‘bed, wed or behead, isn’t it?”  Sandor assumed the others nodded because she continued.  “So, I chose to behead Joffrey…”

Mycella giggled.  “Good choice,” which made them all laugh.

“To bed I choose The Hound.”  Sandor’s eyes widened in shock and a little shudder of distaste.  Not that the girl was ugly but he only ever saw her as a child.

“Why him?” asked Sansa, in her low voice that always gave him chills.

“Have you seen him?  He’s huge!  I bet what’s between his legs is just as big.  Yes, he’s terrifying, but if I closed my eyes I wouldn’t have to see his face.”

Sandor was about to walk away, but Sansa’s voice stopped him.  “Jeyne!  That’s mean.  He’s…he’s not that bad.  He can be very…kind, at times.”

Sansa Stark was defending him!  He felt a slight tightening in his chest.

“Anyway, to wed, I choose Sir Arys Oakheart.”  She sighed loudly.  “He is just heavenly.”

Sandor snorted to himself.  Typical.  The knight, and Kingsguard member, was a womaniser and a sleaze but he was pretty to look at.  And that’s all that mattered, wasn’t it?

“Your turn, Myrcella.”

“I choose to behead Joffrey too.  I don’t care if he’s my brother,” she said defiantly.  “No-one would miss him.”

Sandor nodded at that one.

“Hmm, to bed?”  She broke off as if was pondering this question.  “I can’t say The Hound.  Sandor has been around us since I was born and I’m actually very fond of him.  He’s always watched over me and I see him as more like a brother than Joffrey.”

Sandor bowed his head.  He never knew Myrcella felt like that.  It’s true he’d always tried protect her from Joffrey’s nastiness but he was as gruff with her as he was with everyone else.  Obviously, she’d seen past the exterior.  A tiny smile of fondness crossed his face.

“Soooo, I choose to bed…Petyr Baelish.”

“Ewww!” was the general response from her friends. 

Even Sandor grimaced at that one.  Baelish!  What the fuck!

“No, listen,” laughed Myrcella.  “I know he’s awful and creepy and he stalks Sansa like a bad smell, but you have to admit he’s attractive.  In an evil, murderous kind of way.”  There were gagging sounds from inside alongside the giggling.  “Stop looking at me like that!  It’s just a game.”

“That’s just disgusting,” proclaimed Sansa, “but anyway, continue.  Please don’t tell us you’d wed Varys.”

The girls were snorting with laughter but Sandor was still trying to get the image of Littlefucker with the sweet Myrcella out of his head.

“No, that would be too gross, even for me,” Mycella laughed.  “No.  To wed, I choose Podrick Payne, Uncle Tyrion’s squire.”

“Oh, he’s lovely!” exclaimed Sansa.

Sandor’s gut churned. 

“Yes, he’s so sweet,” agreed Jeyne.  “I dropped a bag full of darning yarn the other day and he was only one who helped me pick them up.”

“Yes, he’s so cute and shy,” sighed Myrcella.  “And,”  she lowered her voice conspiratorially so that Sandor had to strain to hear,  “I overhead a couple of kitchen maids talking about a rumour that’s going around that Pod is incredible in bed.”

Sandor shook his head.  He’d heard the whores talking about the squire when he’d been drinking in his free time.  It was probably all a jape.  How that soft-faced, slightly flabby boy could be any good in the sack was beyond him.

“At least he’s better than Baelish,” commented Jeyne.  “Your turn, Sansa.”

Sandor straightened up and pressed his ear even harder against door.  If they were to open it, he’d fall into the room like a log.

“Very well.  To behead, and this will probably come as no surprise, I choose Joffrey.”

Three from three for the little fucker, smirked Sandor alongside the laughing from inside the room.

“If only wishes came true,” giggled Jeyne.  “Who do you choose to bed?”

Yes, Little Bird, who? wondered Sandor, both dreading and anticipating the answer. 

“I’m sorry, Myrcella, but I choose Jaime Lannister.”

Sandor’s heart sank to his feet.  Of course.  Handsome, heroic Jaime.  He with the blond hair and blue eyes and unmarred face.   Would she still pick him if she knew that he fucked his own twin sister and that he was Myrcella’s father, not her uncle?

He couldn’t help the disappointment that flooded through him.   He’d believed that Sansa was different to the other girls.  That she’d learned to see past the pretty exterior, or otherwise, in his case.  Obviously not.

Suddenly tired of listening to their stupid, girlish game and needing to drink himself to oblivion, he made to move before he did something foolish like cry out here in the corridor.

“It’s somewhat icky, but that’s because he’s my uncle,” said Myrcella, a shudder in her voice. 

“He’s very handsome,” piped in Jeyne.  “Now, for the big one.  Who would you wed?”

Sandor didn’t think he could bear to hear anymore but her next words floored him.

“Sandor Clegane.” 

What?

“What!” screamed Jeyne.  “The Hound?”

“No, not the Hound.  Sandor,” insisted Sansa.  “Just listen.  I don’t care what anyone thinks, I find him handsome.  He’s protected me from Joffrey many times and saved my life during the riots.  He’s even been somewhat sweet when we meet by accident.  Gruff, but sweet.  And I agree with you, Jeyne.  I think he’d be a wonderful lover.  That strong, warrior’s body.  Hmmm, it makes me shiver just to think about it,” she sighed dreamily.

Legs shaking, Sandor leaned against the door to stop them from collapsing under him.  

Sansa Stark, the most beautiful girl in the whole world, found him, Sandor Clegane, handsome!  Thought about him bedding her.   Had he passed out in a drunken stupor?

“And why would I want to bed him just once?  If I wed him, he could make love to me every night.  Can you imagine it?”  she asked wistfully.

If he didn’t move right now, he’d probably break into the room and ravish Sansa right this instant!  Forcing his legs to work, Sandor crept away slowly, heart thundering, back to his room. 

And as he lay there, palming his arousal, he began planning on how to get both of them out from under Joffrey’s control. 

Sansa’s wish was going to come true, or he’d die trying.

    

 


End file.
